


Dedication

by allisondraste



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Flowers, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 18:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisondraste/pseuds/allisondraste
Summary: For Jewels <3Scout Harding often feels unnecessary, but a gift from Ambassador Montilyet lets her know she is anything but.





	Dedication

It was an unpleasant job, but somebody had to do it.  At least, that’s what she told herself. Standing waist deep in the murky waters of the Fallow Mire or enduring the blistering winds of the Emprise was so much more bearable when it was viewed as essential and exciting. It was something not entrusted to just anyone, but to her in particular. Scout Harding, the most important not important person in the Inquisition.

Still, it was a thankless position, unless she considered the occasional flirtatious remark from the Inquisitor a sign of gratitude. She was certain that their fearless leader flirted with anything that had a pulse, and some things that didn’t. She was nothing special there.  

Harding was used to not being special. At least when she was out in the field, she had a function. She was needed. Standing around Skyhold, she felt useless and invisible as if she simply dissolved into the background. It was difficult for a commoner such as herself stand out among a such illustrious folk, not that she really wanted to stand out, per se. She would have settled for simply feeling like she belonged.

Today was particularly rough, as she had no pressing tasks to which to attend. There were no paths to scout, no bridges to attempt to repair with only scraps of wood, no big boulders to roll out of the Inquisitor’s way. It was dreadfully boring and even more lonely.

She normally would have milled about by the Herald’s Rest, perhaps having a drink with the Chargers or helping Sera pester Cabot. However, for some reason she felt compelled to return to her quarters early. There were flashes of a conversation, but she couldn’t remember with whom or the subject. She just knew that she felt as if her room was the place to be.

Harding shared a sleeping area with several other troops, her bed close to the wall of the barracks. She was delighted to see the space vacant, but it immediately drew attention to the colorful vase filled with a variety of even more colorful flowers sitting atop the table near her bed. That had definitely not been there earlier.

Approaching the bouquet more carefully, she saw that it was made of flowers from each of the different places she had scouted for the Inquisitor. Embrium, dawn lotus, crystal grace, prophet’s laurel, and more that she didn’t even know the names for. They didn’t really match, but they were so beautiful. They couldn’t be for her could they? Surely they were for the beautiful young soldier that bunked above her. Nobody would get _her_ flowers.

There was a part of her that hoped desperately they were hers as she reached for the note that lay beside the vase on the table. It was heavy parchment folded over onto itself and sealed with gold-colored wax. How official.

She tore the seal, and any feelings of guilt she may have had for opening a note that could have belonged to someone else vanished. Delicate swirls of black ink very clearly marked the note as hers. Excitement fluttered in her stomach as she began to read the words.

_Dearest Scout Harding,_

_I am not sure if you like flowers, but I hope that you find these suitable. You have been an invaluable asset to our cause, and while a small gift such as this is not truly sufficient, it is the least I could do. I am certain that you have been personally responsible for the safety of the Inquisitor many times._

_I simply thought you should know that you are valued._

_Thank you for your dedication._

_Sincerely,_

_Josephine_

If her mouth had been any more agape, her chin would have touched the floor. The Ambassador? Flowers? A note signed with her **_first name_ ** _?_ Thanking _her?_ Had she not been holding the very real paper and looking at a very real bouquet, she would not have believed it.

Warm tears welled in the corners of her eyes as she clutched the note to her chest. She fought them back. This was a proud moment, and she would not cry. Instead, she smiled, read the note again for good measure, folded the parchment and tucked it in one of the many pockets of her uniform. She ran her fingers delicately across the petals, and smelled them briefly. The mix of fragrances lingered in her nostrils, lovely and nostalgia, reminding her of her travels.

She would have to thank Ambas- Josephine later.


End file.
